BRUTUS
Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
CLITUS
Statilius show’d the torch-light; but, my lord,
He came not back: he is or ta’en or slain.
BRUTUS
Sit down, Clitus. Slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark , Clitus.
CLITUS
What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.
BRUTUS
Peace then, no words.
CLITUS
I’ll rather kill myself.
BRUTUS
Hark , Dardanius.
DARDANIUS
Shall I do such a deed?
CLITUS
O Dardanius!
DARDANIUS
O Clitus!
CLITUS
What ill request did Brutus make to ?
DARDANIUS
To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
CLITUS
Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.
BRUTUS
Come , good Volumnius; list a word.
VOLUMNIUS
What says my lord?
BRUTUS
Why, this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Caesar appear’d to me
Two several times by night; at Sardis once,
And this last night here in Philippi fields.
I know my hour is come.
VOLUMNIUS
Not so, my lord.
BRUTUS
Nay I am sure it is, Volumnius.
seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit.
BRUTUS
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
know’st that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I
Hold my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
VOLUMNIUS
That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.
CLITUS
Fly, fly, my lord! there is no tarrying here.
BRUTUS
Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.
Strato, been all this while asleep;
Farewell to too, Strato.—Countrymen,
My heart joy, that yet in all my life
I found no man but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day
More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So fare you well at once; for Brutus’ tongue
almost ended his life’s history.
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labour’d to attain this hour.
CLITUS
Fly, my lord, fly!
BRUTUS
! I will follow.
BRUTUS
I , Strato, stay by lord.
art a fellow of a good respect;
life had some smatch of honour in it.
Hold then my sword, and turn away face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt , Strato?
STRATO
Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.
BRUTUS
Farewell, good Strato.—Caesar, now be still:
I kill’d not with half so good a will.
OCTAVIUS
What man is that?
MESSALA
My master’s man. Strato, where is master?
STRATO
Free from the bondage you are in, Messala.
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else honour by his death.
LUCILIUS
So Brutus should be found. I thank , Brutus,
That prov’d Lucilius’ saying true.
OCTAVIUS
All that serv’d Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt bestow time with me?
STRATO
Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
OCTAVIUS
Do so, good Messala.
MESSALA
How died my master, Strato?
STRATO
I held the sword, and he did run on it.
MESSALA
Octavius, then take him to follow ,
That did the latest service to my master.
ANTONY
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
All the conspirators save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, “This was a man!”
OCTAVIUS
According to his virtue let us use him
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order’d honourably.
So call the field to rest, and let’s away,
To part the glories of this happy day.